Fine dining

While I was having an elegant dinner,

this is what Jacob was doing; he's in the center, of course 

After a hard day at the computer, what a girl—or an old lady—needs is a fine French dinner. Tonight, a friend and I went to Paris 7^th. It’s an off-shoot of St. Emilion, which has long been one of the few bastions of fine dining in Fort Worth, with an impeccable reputation of excellent food, fine wines, and outstanding service. Paris 7^th has instituted a bistro menu for early diners on Tuesday and Wednesday nights—appetizer, entrée, and dessert—for a prix fixe.

This new restaurant is in space evacuated by a toney French restaurant that tried too hard—dark atmosphere, extraordinary prices, although, so I hear, good food. It went out of business, So Bernard Tronche, owner of St. Emilion, moved in, redecorated and lightened the space, and created a truly pleasant atmosphere, light and bright with cheery red upholstery, café curtains in the windows, and a clever use of small mirrors to enlarge the space. The restaurant was almost full, but the noise level was muted and tolerable. You got the sense that you were dining among people who were enjoying good food and company. The day’s full menu was on two chalkboards that waiters carried from table to table—I peeked but couldn’t tell much. I suspect it listed scallops, pate, escargot, beef bourguignon, steak au poivre, sole meuniere, and, of course, frites. The man next to us had an elaborate presentation of steak tartare.

Tonight’s bistro menu was asparagus soup, duck confit, and an apple tarte. The soup had a great flavor but was a bit thin and not quite hot; the confit was rich and delicious—a small serving was more than enough to fill me up; and the tarte light and lovely, with a small scoop of ice cream in which a sugared walnut was embedded—surprised me when I came across something hard in my ice cream. We had a good French chardonnay, not included in the bistro price. One server brought bread; another filled our water glasses; still another removed used dishes. But our waiter was on top of it, stopping just often enough to assure that we were enjoying our meal.

Once again, an evening I thoroughly enjoyed, one that made me feel back in the stream of life instead of puttering in my cottage. I am blessed.